


『ずっと一緒にいたい』

by WolfVenom



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Blood, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Heavy Angst, M/M, Oni Genji Shimada, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pain, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 04:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12622736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfVenom/pseuds/WolfVenom
Summary: There is only one thousand ways to say 'I love you'.





	『ずっと一緒にいたい』

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sarcasticasides](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sarcasticasides).



> This work is entirely inspired by sarcasticasides at tumblr! With their loving help, I managed to create a semblance of story to bring their wonderful artwork into the land of words, and now I share their genius with you all! If you want more of their Overwatch/McGenji work, go visit their tumblr!!! ALL ART IS THEIRS!!!!!!!! 
> 
> Currently not Beta read!!

Jesse McCree loved to categorize himself as a top-notch marksman. No matter what he did, the bullseye was split in two, be it an errant beast or talking his way out of a snare. His tongue was as slick as silver and his eye as sharp as a shrike, and anyone facing the barrel of his gun met their maker not even the next breath over.

 

But this gunslinger was not a killer. Every man woman and child was spared from the deadest of eyes, and his compassion extended to even those who barely grasped the human spectrum. He held his gun with his flesh hand, preferred to have that connection to those on the other end of his bullets, not a pretender made of metal to take a soul. Miss Amari saw the good in this man with her one wise eye; saw the brilliance and courage it took to face threats wholly incomprehensible to most. Right after glancing at him that day long ago, she wished only the strongest path for him.

 

She saw him take down beasts and demons larger than oaks, watched him give his arm for a pregnant woman facing down a hellhound by herself, the limb cauterized right as it came off. The dog of fire didn’t even leave a clean cut in its wake, but the baby was born healthy and McCree never asked for anything more.

 

Hanamura had to be home to the most violent of wild things. The flaming dogs were twice the size and more bloodthirsty, the women were eviscerated for their fetuses and souls hung heavy in dark alleys where no one would find the remains. It was worse if for only one reason - the monsters there were clever and sentient.

 

McCree values a cold drink with bar mates he meets in new places. Hanamura is no exception, and when the pull of adventure becomes too much, he packs up the necessities and lets instinct take over, guiding him through streets that are filled with cherry blossoms and the bustle of people. He finds himself a den, a not-too-shabby apartment tucked away behind a sushi bar and an arcade, one room only. His bed becomes a soft bundle of blankets on an even softer tatami, and he gets to know the woman who runs the bar downstairs after only a week.

 

It takes him that one week to find the reason for his newest adventure. It’s a shallow Tuesday morning in Hanamura, and Harumi-san greets him warmly from her place behind the bar, already pushing forward a steaming bowl of yakisoba. She got used to his ridiculous eating portions and style very quickly. McCree offers a tender smile and grabs a seat at the stool closest to her little perch by the register, thanking her for the plastic fork in place of chopsticks. He never got the hang of those.

 

He’s halfway through his fourth bite when the paper is passed to him from a leaving customer, heading to the door. The pages are thin and wrinkled, and he makes use of the seldom pages of English he finds inside. Though the lack of knowledge of the Japanese language is a burden, McCree gathers the general idea from pictures and lettering, finding crime scene photos and little to no ads on pages where kids would never think to look. Intuitiveness is his strong point, and by the time he has scraped the bowl clean and paid for his meal, McCree heads to the online cafe nearest his newfound destination.

 

The series of corpses left behind baffling the police are continuing like some sick saga, and Hanamura has soon become a place of rumor and unrest. McCree pushes open the door to the quaint little bakery and finds a seat by the window, ordering just a small black coffee whilst he opens up one of the laptops provided. It’s easier to find this information in a language he knows well there, and the cute little waitress brings him his coffee in no time.

 

The screen provides him a translated version of the news reports, bodies found sucked dry and hollow, nothing left but skin and bones, a husk of the person who once held so much life. There are no wounds, and McCree lets it click exactly what kind of beast he’ll be hunting this year. The petite little barista girl leaves her number by his check.

 

\----

 

Beats like heavy gunfire pulse through the club McCree slithers around in, avoiding bodies and passing terrible apologies in Japanese at those he brushes. Luggage hangs heavy under his eyes from the restless nights of research, and Ana practically threatened him over email to take a break. No new murders had happened in a fortnight and all the evidence he had as of now were that the two monsters were working in tandem with one another.

 

He orders hard liquor at the bar and ignores drunk patrons screaming over the music; he can’t understand any of it anyway. The sound is droning and loud, but he lets it’s baritone song lull him into a daze, The booze slides comfortably down his throat, rough with tobacco, and the heat it pools in his gut is an anchor to the world of the awake. He’s having fun, looking around at the party people, and he pulls his glove over his right wrist in sudden anxiety.

 

“Oi, get this man another round,” an accent cuts through the jibberish and McCree startles just slightly, looking up at the stranger who pulls up a seat next to him. He is full of slick smiles and hazy eyes, clearly acting with intent, but McCree is too tipsy to look too deep.

 

“An’ here I thought I would be sittin’ by my lonesome till I was fluent,” McCree drawls over the roar of nightlife, “what’s yer name, stranger?”

 

The man, all slim waist and pert throat, chuckles deep. “Foreigners _are_ very forthright. Forgive my brashness,” he seems to ponder for one heartbeat, and McCree thinks that it might be about his name, “my name is Genji. _Hajimemashite._ ” The Japanese is succulent and rolls off his tongue much easier than English.

 

With a gentlemanly nod, McCree offers a small bow instead of a hand.

 

“Jesse. McCree. Either works.”

 

Genji’s eyes gleam in the sudden pass of neon lights and their dark gaze has the remainder of saliva in his mouth vacate. He clears his now dry throat and accepts the shot glass passed to him by the bartender. There's an unhidden smirk on his new acquaintance’s face as he downs his own glass in a flash, not even sparing a moment to adjust to the assault on his taste buds. McCree shrugs, going in for the kill himself. The tequila burns more, but he ensures his impassive features remain. No need for terrible first impressions.

 

Genji fidgets for just a moment, crossing his legs and running a pale hand through a wisp of green hair -- _wow, green._

 

“I couldn’t help but notice how alone you were, McCree-san. Allow me to sit with you, _ne_?” The question is there and McCree finds himself accepting without a second thought.

 

The faint black lights reflect his insanely white teeth when he leans his head back and giggles, obviously entertained by the new face. He leans a soft cheek against his palm when his elbow rests on the bar, and gestures towards McCree. “Are you on a trip here? Or have you moved residence?”

 

The conversation starter doesn’t slip past McCree’s head, but he indulges, “Jus’ a young fool tryin’ his hand at adventurin’.” His response is vague enough to keep cover, but clean enough to get the point across. Genji flashes teeth once more before reaching over the bar and pulling a bottle for himself from the cache. It strikes Jesse as insane, but he’s now gone brain dead and he just lets it happen.

 

“Ah, a brave young fool, I see. You do not know any Japanese, I can tell. I would teach you some, but I fear nothing will be remembered,” the light-hearted jest is just what brings a laugh to the hunter, “but I like you. We have much time to teach you.”

 

\----

 

Jesse dreams about these times, snoring softly into the junction of his arm, just where the bandage begins. A time he can think back to when the empty space on his futon becomes just a bit too much some nights. But Genji always comes back, always returns to his bed, and McCree is fine letting his growing love simmer for those days he spends alone.

 

\----

 

_The devilish Imp laughs cruelly, obviously amused by the blood flowing near black down the little demons chin. She cocks her hips this way and that, tail swishing behind her like a whip ready to brutalize, and the tip of her head doesn’t sneak past the Oni._

 

_Genji spits into his hands, staring with dread at the stains he leaves on his hands. Blood that was usually never his coating his body. He looks back up at the woman, begging her with his life._

 

_“Please. Please have mercy. I need a cure for this, I do not want to die…” He pleads._

 

_She works her eyes over his trembling form, taking in every shudder and hack. Realization dawns on her pallid-like features and a sick smile creeps its way onto her painted lips._

 

_“Oh, you naughty, naughty boy. You’ve gone and fallen in love with a mortal, haven’t you? As for a cure, one thousand souls might do the trick, in your case,” she caresses her jaw with a hand in thought, “but I am certain the surest fix, is to kill the very mortal you have so enraptured yourself in.”_

 

_The mere thought floods his brain like sludge and Genji vomits, sticky and coppery, all the blood in his system seeming to fall from his mouth. He would not --_ could _not, kill him. The shock in his frame causes the Imp to sigh heavily, dropping her hand to her hip._

 

_“Look, little Oni. Look for the Reaper. Surely he may have some souls to gift, for a price,” she chides, wings stretching as she prepares to leave him, broken and coughing. The demon feels betrayed at the thought, knowing she would drop him once he was of no more use. “You better start feeding.”_

 

_With that, she turns tail and dashes away into the shadows, gliding away unseen to places unknown._

 

He creeps his way back into the terrible apartment McCree had rented for himself, runs the sink to rid himself of the browning stains, and takes a deep breath. His lungs are filled, but he swallows down the sickness flooding him, pulling his disguise back over his body with a wisp of smoke. Skin turns to grey and teeth blunt down, eyes no longer dead. He looks terrible, so Genji throws on some makeup and slides into the bed next to his lover -- _his demise._

 

The westerner stirs briefly but stays in the dream world. The warm body against his feverish skin is a weight from his heavy shoulders, but he feels exhausted the closer he is to that bronzed flesh, and he _hates_ it.

 

If Hanzo knew, he would slaughter this treasure. The one thing Genji has picked from the rough that was eternal life. Not even one thousand souls would make up this man. Closing his tired eyes, the little Oni ran a finger softly down the sharp ridge of McCree’s spine, feeling the swirl of his disguise falter under his strained emotions. He puts the glamour back on in one forced grunt, then snuggles up as close as he can to his love, ignoring the pangs in his gut as they scream and beg him to slaughter the cause for his pain.

 

Sleep claims his addled brain and he does not wake until roused, groggy and lethargic. His dreams were terrible and dark and seeing soft eyes crinkle when McCree smiles at him nearly makes him forget it all. He lets Genji wake himself up from there before going to make some breakfast for him, forgoing Harumi-san’s restaurant for today. It felt so much better to cook for someone you loved, anyway.

 

Genji slides onto his feet and pads over to the man, wrapping his arms around his midsection. The closeness once more gives way to his disguise, but Jesse is focused on cooking and not on him, so he lets it slide, frowning deeply.

 

A yawn is pressed into Jesse’s back, and Genji feels the gooseflesh on his spine through the thin shirt.

 

“Good mornin’ sweet thing.” McCree greets, and Genji suddenly feels himself sink deeper into despair at how far he has fallen. But the guise of comfort radiating from the body of his love is too tempting to part from.

 

\----

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos keep this broke writer on her feet! Remember to follow sarcasticasides @ tumblr.
> 
> Note: The title translates to 'zutto issho-ni itai', which means: I want to be with you forever. A common way to express love~


End file.
